


Doff Thy Name

by Twilight_PhoenixFyre



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Blinky is Not Amused, But that's a long way down the road, Changeling!Jim, Complicated Gumm-Gumm ruling family dynamics, It's a Romeo and Juliet story, Kanjigar the Clueless, Kanjigar's A+ parenting, M/M, Some creative liberties taken with magic, i'll add tags as necessary, m-preg, slow-burn romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_PhoenixFyre/pseuds/Twilight_PhoenixFyre
Summary: He was a Changeling, son of the king of the Gumm-Gumms. Draal was the son of the Trollhunter, whose very job was to kill Gumm-Gumms and Changelings.Romeo and Juliet, they were not. But caught between a feud older even than the Montagues and the Capulets? Oh, yes...“Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.”Jim smiled slightly to himself. “I take thee at thy word; Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was something that snuck into my brain and... stayed there. -sigh- So I typed it out. It's a bit rough, and will probably be pulled down (and/or updated rather slowly as I add/edit later chapters), but here it is.
> 
> The summary's been pulled from a few chapters in.

There was a troll.

In his back yard.

Staring at him.

...

Well, in the troll’s defense, he _had_ just been caught rummaging through his trash bins, but still.

Troll.

Back yard.

He took a deep breath, let it out, and then crossed his arms. “You know... if you were looking for food, you could have just asked.”

The troll stared at him for another ten seconds, then turned and fled.

He snorted.

That was _not_ how he’d imagined tonight going. Really.

“Jim, are you still up?”

He looked over his shoulder in surprise. He hadn’t realized...

“Yeah, mom! There’s dinner in the fridge... I just have to clean up out here; raccoons got into the trash again.”

Actually, a troll had gotten into the trash again, but it wasn’t the usual troll. And that...

Oh, boy. How was he going to explain this one to Stricklander? “Hey, guess what? I saw a random troll digging around in my trash bins last night. We had a staring contest for a while and then he got spooked by Dr. Lake. Yeah, can’t see _that_ going over well...”

“Talking to yourself again, Jim?”

He groaned and tossed a slightly moldy loaf of what _had_ been banana bread toward the voice.

“Ooh... Yummy. I should start coming around your house more often.” A tall pink figure emerged from the shadows, glowing green eyes watching as he cleaned up the rest of the trash.

“Please don’t. Barbara’s getting suspicious enough about the raccoons, and I just had a _troll_ digging through my bins. As in, someone from _Trollmarket_ decided rifling through my trash was a good idea.”

Nomura stopped, raised her head to sniff, and took a half-step back. “That scent... No, it couldn’t be.”

“You knew him? Blue, pretty impressive set of horns, crystal protrusions from his back...”

“His name’s Draal,” Nomura cut him off before he could say any more.

Jim froze.

Draal.

He knew that name. That was...

“Hm. Now what is Kanjigar’s son doing running around on the surface?” he muttered.

Nomura’s cackling really didn’t help.

“Jim? Is there someone out there?”

And in the second it took him to stand up and put the lid back on the bin, Nomura was gone.

“No, I’m just talking to myself. Trying to, you know. Practice for the play auditions,” he said.

“Play?” Barbara Lake asked, half leaning out the garage door to look at him as he stepped back inside.

“Yeah, Romeo and Juliet. I figured, why not? Sounded like fun. And the girl who told me about it, Claire? She’s _really_ excited about it, and they need a lot more boys to join than they’ve gotten, so...”

“Ooh, there’s a girl involved...?”

Jim fought not to grimace. “Mom... I’m not interested in her like that. She’s cool, but... You know. More, possible best friend material than possible girlfriend material. If that makes sense.”

She just gave him a smile, and he fought not to roll his eyes. “If you say so, Jim. If you say so. Now... I really think you need to get to bed. I’ll be heading that way myself as soon as I’ve eaten.”

Jim smiled. “Love you, Mom.”

She leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. “Love you too, Jim.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... don't know about this chapter. Remember I said I may add/edit things as I go, if I don't do a tear-down and re-post altogether? This is one of the chapters that prompted that reaction. It's meant to be some semi-background character-buildup for my Changeling!Jim, but... I just don't know.

Claire stepped off the stage with a grin, and Jim saw her glance his way as he stepped out, taking a deep breath. He remembered his lines, _barely_ , and though struck by a moment’s hesitation, he stood up straight regardless.

“Ah, Mr. Lake. And what part will you be auditioning for?”

Jim offered a smile to Ms. Janeth. “Romeo, if I may.”

“Most certainly! Carry on, then.”

Another deep breath, and Jim glanced to Claire.

 “She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o’er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air.”

Claire giggled, and Jim managed not to grin.

This was... fun.

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet,” Claire piped up, proving that she knew the scene as well as he did.

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“’Tis but thy name that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, though not a Montague... What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by another other name would smell as sweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title,” Claire recited, much to what appeared to be Ms. Janeth’s amusement. “Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.”

He grinned and shifted from where he’d been standing pressed against the curtain around the stage. “I take thee at thy word; Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.”

Claire glanced at Ms. Janeth before delivering the next lines. “What man art thou that thus bescreen’d in night so stumblest on my counsel?”

Jim put a hand over his heart. “By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word.”

“Ooh, you two are going to do so splendidly!”

Jim bit his lip to keep from grinning.

“So...”

“You do seem to be the best Romeo act we’ve gotten yet! And such good chemistry with Claire, our undisputed Juliet!”

Jim really wasn’t all that surprised when Claire jumped up onto the stage and grinned at him.

“You’re _really_ good!”

Jim chuckled. “I’ve... had to do a lot of acting over the years. First time for Romeo and Juliet though. Should be fun, right?”

Claire nodded. “Yeah. And I’m sure the two of us can keep the rest of the cast on point.” She paused and blushed a little. “Really, though... thanks. I really don’t think Eli would have gotten the Romeo part, and we were kind of running out of options.”

Jim smiled. “Any time.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I am missing a chapter here, but can't find the motivation to write it at the moment. So this is going up now, and I'll add a note if I ever add something between things.
> 
> Edit: Changed Jim's last spoken line from seven hours to fourteen hours.

“So...”

The same troll from three nights previously jumped and spun around, gold eyes wide as they locked on him.

“...Do you always eat trash, or does human food work, too?”

The vague idea of a plan was beginning to form in his mind. It wasn’t a good plan, and his brother would _kill_ him if he found out about it in the early stages, but...

For a moment, it looked like he would bolt again. Instead, he took a half-step back, eyeing Jim warily. “You’re... not afraid of me.”

“Should I be?”

“Humans typically do fear trolls.”

Jim smirked. “Well, I’m not most humans. So. Food.”

The troll turned back to the garbage bin. “I’m not certain if human food alone would sustain me. And wouldn’t the other human you live with wonder where your food went?”

“Not really. I tend to cook for the people across the street, too,” Jim admitted, glancing toward the eastern sky, then at his watch.

Last time, he’d caught the troll before going to bed. This time, he’d spotted the familiar, spiky blue outline after waking up. And if he was right...

The mist cleared enough for the sunlight to peek over the trees, and the troll hissed, rapidly retreating into the shadows as blue sparks danced over his shoulders.

Unfortunately, darting into the shadows left him in the garage with Jim. Not that he seemed to notice immediately.

“Oh, no... Father’s going to kill me...”

Jim looked up at him and feigned confusion. “You can’t be in the sun?”

“No, sunlight kills trolls.” He grimaced. “And I didn’t exactly tell anyone I was coming to the surface.”

Jim looked to the east, then frowned. “You could hide in the basement if you want. Mom never goes down there... when she’s in the house at all.”

The troll looked down at him in surprise. “You’d... offer me shelter?”

Jim blinked. “Yeah. I mean, kicking you out _now_ would be to kill you and I’m really not up to committing murder before school today.”

A few moments of staring contest, and he sighed. “Name’s Jim, by the way.” Then he turned and headed into the house. He needed to make lunches for himself, Toby, and Barbara, and breakfast for the two members of the Lake household, and...

And, the troll was following him.

And carefully avoiding the patches of sunlight.

Jim wandered around the house, pulling the blinds closed without a word, though he paused to gesture to the basement door. “The basement’s that way, if you’re taking me up on that offer,” he said. He may have to modify his half plan, he mused as he pulled out a few pans. Didn’t look like the original version was going to work...

“I... Thank you.”

He stopped and turned around, looking at the rather out-of-place troll standing near the end of his counter.

“You’re welcome.”

Hm... Maybe he could do pasta today. They’d had meatloaf yesterday...

“I am Draal, son of Kanjigar. And I am in your debt.”

Jim fought down the urge to react in any of the manners he _wanted_ to—grinning or smiling or celebrating in _any_ way would just alarm the troll—and instead plastered on an expression of confusion. “What, for letting you in?”

“I was being foolish, letting myself lose track of the time. I cannot return home while the sun remains in the sky. If I’m _lucky_ , my father won’t punish me harshly for... this.” He stopped and made a somewhat distressed sound. “We’re not supposed to be seen, yet... This is the second time you’ve caught me.”

Jim glanced over at him. “Well, I won’t tell anyone.” Except Nomura and Stricklander and every other Changeling in Arcadia Oaks, but even then, it wouldn’t be immediately.

“I owe you for this, truly.”

“You snuck out, didn’t you?” It was something he’d been suspecting for a while now, but...

Draal visibly flinched.

Jim sighed. “Family troubles? You’ve mentioned your father a couple times now.”

“Why do you care?”

Jim shrugged, draining the pasta he’d had boiling and going through the familiar motions of mixing up a sauce. “Just curious. My family’s not perfect, either. I mean, come on. My mom works ridiculous shifts and is rarely if ever around, and my dad ran off on us when I was five.” His biological family wasn’t much better, considering his mother was dead, his brother hated him, and his father was playing a dangerous game playing favorites with his younger son.

Draal made a sound of vague and grim amusement. “My father isn’t much better than your mother. Always working, always gone...” Was that... bitterness Jim heard in the troll’s voice? He seemed to hesitate before continuing. “I know his job’s dangerous, but... does he have to push me away all the time?” Draal stopped and looked over at him, as if realizing he was opening up to a complete stranger, and Jim turned back to his lunch, finishing with the pasta and putting together lunch bags.

“I’m sorry...”

“It’s alright. I get it,” Jim said. “Sometimes... you just need someone to rant to.” He finished with the lunches, glanced at a clock, and moved on to breakfast. He’d leave Barbara’s portion in the fridge since she wasn’t home at the moment.

Draal watched on silently as he cooked. “That... doesn’t smell terrible.”

Jim smirked a little. Yeah, that had been the same thing Bular had said the one time he’d had to deal with the lone free Gumm-Gumm hovering over his shoulder while he was cooking.

He had more than enough to make what would typically amount to eight portions. If Draal got six of them... well, his mom didn’t need to know that.

Still, it couldn’t last forever.

“I have to head out soon. Don’t let my mom see you when she comes home.”

“I won’t. Mm. Might sneak out again just for the food.”

Jim chuckled. “Try not to make it too common a habit? I can pass off a few times a month as me feeding Toby and his grandmother, but much more than that...”

“I don’t think I should be sneaking out that much, anyway,” Draal agreed.

“I’ll be back in about fourteen hours, so just after dark... if nothing comes up. See you before you head home?”

Draal nodded, something like a smile on his face. “I’ll still be here.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited Jim's last spoken line at the end of last chapter. He originally said seven hours, now it says fourteen hours.
> 
> This is a very freshly-written chapter. No Draal here, but some good exposition.  
> Bular shows up next chapter... (After I edit it to account for the new chapter I just wrote.)

“So... Whatcha planning to do for your birthday this year?” Toby asked, the chubby boy somehow managing to skip ahead of Jim without falling over or dropping his bike. And, well... He’d been expecting this question for a while now.

And his answer was the same as usual. “Nothing.”

His excuse was that he didn’t like being reminded about his dad walking out on his fifth birthday, but the real reason was twofold, and just as simple. Not only did he not remember when his birthday was (growing up in the Darklands really _sucked_ when it came to things like that), he was pretty sure it _wasn’t_ the same day as James Lake, Jr.’s birthday. So, it didn’t really feel right to celebrate a birthday that wasn’t his.

Toby just looked exasperated, even as they reached the grocery store. His friend looked over the storefront for a moment, then frowned. “Are you working this afternoon, or just here to get groceries?”

Jim chuckled. “Both.”

“Dude, you’ve been scheduled all week?! I didn’t think they gave that many shifts to the under-sixteens!” Toby asked, suitably incredulous all things considered.

Jim shrugged. “I’ve actually been picking up as many shifts as I can when the other kids call in. Gotta pay for that scooter somehow, right? You know my mom’s never going to buy it for me,” he said, weaving a believable excuse.

Toby grinned. “Nice! Don’t overwork yourself, though. Turning into your mom and all that,” the boy teased him, slapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder and getting up onto his bike. “See you tomorrow morning?”

Jim grinned and nodded. “Of course! Tell Nana I said hi!” he called after his friend as Toby started off down the street.

He was a good kid... and a good friend, no matter how many times he had to tell his brother that the boy was just a cover, an accessory to make him look inconspicuous.

And with Toby now gone...

Jim eyed the grocery store, trying to decide if he was going to get groceries tonight or save it for tomorrow...

His phone started playing a familiar tune, one he usually dreaded hearing for one reason and one reason only.

It was usually followed up by some sort of bad news.

He reluctantly pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

Nomura.

He sighed, hit ‘accept,’ and raised the phone to his ear. “I’m not due on a shift until Sunday night,” he said bluntly. It was Friday.

_“Your brother’s demanding to talk to you tonight. So much so, in fact, that I’ve just lost another security guard. Do you have any idea how hard it is to replace these guys with your brother constantly eating them?!”_

He rolled his eyes. “So bitch to Strickler about it. Keeping him fed is not my job.”

 _“Whatever you say, Mr. Junior Professional Chef,”_ Nomura shot back. _“But seriously, if you don’t show up tonight, he’s coming to your place. So... Barbara, or the security guards. And frankly, I kinda like Barbara. She’s pretty spunky for a human.”_

Which was as close as Zelda Nomura would ever come to admitting that she’d rather neatly tucked his ‘mother’ into the ‘BFF/sister’ zone.

Still... “Bular at my house would be... bad. Very, very bad. For multiple reasons.”

 _“So I can tell him you’ll be here and not have to worry about being killed because you’ll actually show up, then,”_ Nomura said with a faux-cheerfulness that never failed to make him groan, because it meant he was going to have one hell of a headache on his hands.

“Yeah. I’ll be there, _after_ my shift at the grocery store.”

 _“Thanks, kiddo.”_ The call promptly cut out, and Jim groaned.

Why did he put up with this nonsense again?

...Oh, right. His father had shoved him into this position.

He muttered a few expletives in Trollish under his breath.

“Well, _that_ didn’t sound good.”

Jim glanced over his shoulder and blinked at the amused face of Walter Strickler. “Now what?”

He got a sympathetic smile and a hand on his shoulder for his efforts. “Your brother?”

“Who else?” He pushed his bike in through the doors and headed for the staff-only area in the back, Walter never once leaving his side. Which was weird, because he was pretty sure tonight was supposed to be the teacher’s night off from everything.

“I don’t suppose you know what the issue is?”

Jim shook his head. “No. But I’ll know in a few hours, I guess.” He stopped at the large swinging doors that led into the back of the store and gave Walter a confused look. The elder Changeling offered up a smile and shrugged.

“I needed groceries. Thought I’d offer an ear. You looked rather bothered, and that was _before_ I got close enough to listen to your cursing.”

Jim smiled. “Thanks. I’ll see you at school Monday, then?”

“Yes... I do hope you _were_ actually paying attention to the lecture today, Romeo, considering the homework I assigned,” Walter said.

Jim chuckled. “I think I’ll manage. Thanks for trying to help.” He watched as his friend walked away, and then pushed through the doors and into the back. Through here, leave his bike and helmet, grab his mask out of his bag...

Everyone in the Janus Order always knew when he was rotated onto cooking duty, so he wasn’t sure why he bothered with it, but it was habit anyway.

Hopefully soon it wouldn’t be necessary...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, this story is apparently way more popular than I thought it would be. :/ I guess the Changeling!Jim thing isn't as worn out as I was thinking it was getting? (Or maybe it's just the fact that I'm posting for a fandom that's not dead/dying for once.)
> 
> ...Oh well. Bular in this chapter. And Gunmar, sorta. Creative liberties taken with how magic and stuff works. (<\- Now added to tags as well.) Heavily edited from its original version, because to be frank, I full-body cringed when I re-read this. It's much better now.
> 
> Also added the Gunmar & Bular & Jim/Imbar tag to relationships.
> 
> Enjoy~

Jim climbed up out of the sewers sometime just after midnight and glanced around as soon as he’d replaced the heavy trapdoor. No one in sight.

At least, not at first glance. A shadow moved, revealing Nomura, still in her human guise. Which was either a good sign, or a _very_ bad sign. And given that Bular had been, in her own words, _demanding_ his presence...

Jim sighed and dropped his bag next to a pottery stand. “What’s this about?” he asked, already making a beeline for the upstairs ‘soon-to-be-revealed’ exhibit where they were rebuilding Killahead Bridge.

Nomura grimaced. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Oh. Great.

“Stay out of sight unless I call for you,” he ordered, sparing only a thought for his form to change, his body size doubling as a troll took the place of a human.

The last few stairs were taken at a near-run, before he shoved the plastic curtain to the side and entered the ‘exhibit’ room.

“I swear, Bular, if you are _wasting my time_ again—“

The black troll threw something at his face, and he barely caught it in time.

At a glance, it looked like a piece of Killahead Bridge.

And if he were any less familiar with the magic imbued in the stones they were collecting, it might have fooled him.

He bared his teeth at it. “A fake?”

“We had an entire batch of them come in,” Bular growled. “Tell me then, _Imbar_. Do your Changelings truly think I’m so stupid as to be fooled by poorly-magicked _rocks_?!”

He narrowed his eyes at the stone in his hand, claws tightening around it until it broke, or rather crumbled, the weak magic failing and revealing the sandstone underneath.

“No. Nomura!”

A moment passed, and then with a wash of blue sparks, the pink Changeling slid out of the shadows, obviously having hoped that she wouldn’t need to get involved. “Track this shipment. I want the names of every Changeling involved by morning. This isn’t Changeling magic, it’s _troll_ magic.”

“You think part of our Order has been compromised.” Nomura sounded indignant, and he growled, pointedly grinding the less-than-sturdy sandstone and letting the _sand_ drift to the floor. He’d clean it up himself if he had to, but for now, he had a point to make.

“They’ve either been compromised, or the trolls in their area _know_ we’re looking for the bridge and have been replacing pieces. More likely the former; no Changeling worth their salt would fall for this,” he said.

Nomura paused and picked piece up a second piece out of an open crate. Then, with a snarl, she turned and stalked past him, her own piece of illusioned sandstone crumbling and leaving a trail in her wake. “You’re right. None of us should be that stupid,” she snarled. “You’ll have your report in a few hours.” As she shifted back to her human form, he heard her continuing to mutter under her breath. “Not even a _good_ illusion. A _human_ could break that without trying.”

She was gone in moments, leaving he and his brother by themselves in front of the incomplete bridge.

An entire shipment, _wasted_. The pieces probably taken and hidden much better than they had been previously.

“This is going to set us back by at least a month. Likely many months,” he muttered crossly, glaring up at the bridge.

“How did this happen? Your Changelings—“

“We’re not infallible, Bular. We can try all we’d like, but we’re _not_ ,” he cut him off. “And neither are you.”

Bular was larger than him. Not quite twice his size, no, he had grown enough in his troll form to at least have enough mass on him to not look _quite_ as scrawny next to Bular as the likes of Nomura and Stricklander, but he was still smaller, still not fully-grown...

_“Bular.”_

Both of them froze, eyes shifting to the faintly glowing bridge.

It wasn’t perfect, it was still being rebuilt, but they’d reached the halfway point _weeks_ ago, and that meant...

“Father?” Bular called.

“So, when were you planning to tell me that the bridges are starting to reconnect finally?” he asked, rather annoyed at his brother for not mentioning anything. The last Fetch they’d used (the one that James Lake, Jr. and he had been switched through) had been destroyed almost three years ago when the goblins had gotten careless and Kanjigar had gotten ahold of it.

Which meant neither brother had been able to speak to their father since then.

Except, with the bridges starting to reconnect...

“You would have known if you could be bothered to help me actually rebuild it!”

 _“Enough!”_ The two of them broke out of their heated glaring to look at the bridge. “ _Do not fight amongst yourselves, my sons. There are greater enemies for you to deal with.”_

“The Trollhunter will fall to my blade,” Bular asserted.

A wash of blue magic, and Jim rolled his eyes and fought back the urge to curse at his brother. “We need him _alive._ In case you’ve never actually _heard_ the damn incantation, daylight is _his_ to command. Unless, by some _dumbass_ fluke of Merlin’s, the amulet chooses a Changeling or _you_ as the next Trollhunter, we won’t be able to use it ourselves. Kanjigar will have to open the bridge for us.”

“As if he would ever do so willingly,” Bular sneered. Whether it was aimed purely at his comment, or the human form he was wearing once again, Jim neither knew nor cared at this point.

 “I have... half of a plan. Which I would be doing a better job of, you know, turning into an _actual_ plan if _this_ mess hadn’t delayed my return to my Familiar’s home.”

_“And how likely is this plan of yours to work, Imbar?”_

Imbar, second son of Gunmar and de facto leader of the Changelings, took a deep breath and braced himself. “I’ve made contact with the Trollhunter’s son, and as of right now, he is unaware of my status as a Changeling, let alone my true identity. If I can salvage this wreck... Draal will bringhis father right to us, or he will be _excellent_ bait.”

_“Hm... Go, my son.”_

Bular was pacing on the other side of the room, clenching his jaw and clearly trying to keep himself silent as Gunmar summarily ignored him. Jim grimaced, once again wishing that his father would stop playing favorites.

“Yes, Father.”

And then he turned and started away, ready to get away from both the bridge and his highly agitated brother.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Ended up splitting this into two chapters as I was going through and doing my mass amounts of edits.
> 
> (Yes, I tend to vanish off the face of the earth for weeks at a time. Sorry. But the story is finished, so it'll be posted in full eventually.)

The lights were out when he got home at the unholy hour of half past three in the morning. He wasn’t surprised, not after having to deal with Bular and then getting a text reminder that he was on clean-up duty tonight as it was his last night in the kitchens for a couple months. Nor was he surprised to find that there was a note on the door to his room.

_Will be working late; don’t stay up long. –Mom_

He sighed, dropped his bag on the floor in his room, and headed back downstairs. No Draal, not at a glance...

A peek in the basement revealed that the troll wasn’t _there_ , either. So, he’d probably left when ‘Jim’ had failed to come home. And with so little time before morning... looked like he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

He’d only just finished his homework a bit over an hour later when a clanging sound drew him outside to investigate. Finding Draal out in the back yard, digging in the bins _again_ , Jim couldn’t help but smile. “Is the stuff I throw out just _that_ tasty?” he asked, realizing now where the troll had disappeared to all night.

“Yes,” came the deadpanned reply, before Draal seemed to realize whom he’d spoken to.

The troll stood up a moment later, righting the bin and crossing the distance between them, a decidedly worried expression on his face, not that Jim would bring his attention to it. “You were late returning.”

Jim nodded. “I was,” he stated tiredly. “I’d say that something came up, but really, _multiple_ things came up. Which sucks, because I—“

He spotted her green eyes just before she leapt over the fence, the faint noise of her landing on the lawn alerting Draal as Jim cut off mid-sentence.

The Trollhunter’s son turned, spotted Nomura, and immediately tensed. From the grin on the pink Changeling’s face, they knew each other. Great. Just what he _didn’t_ need to make his night worse than it already was.

“Nomura!”

“Hello, Draal... Ooh, not being a good little daddy’s boy anymore~?”

He really shouldn’t have been surprised that Draal charged Nomura, or that she met his charge with the wickedly curved blades he’d never be able to wield, himself.

Nomura was highly skilled. Draal had strength and durability on his side, even without an actual blade in his hand. One of them was going to kill the other. And...

He needed them both alive.

For now. Too much more of this bullshit and he was going to kill both of them, and Otto to boot. Possibly Bular and Kanjigar too, just to round out the set of headache-inducers.

But that was something to be considered later, when he still had a hair’s width of rope left and didn’t still have them all slotted nicely into the ‘useful’ box in his head.

With a reluctant sigh, and then an angry roar, he pulled on the magic inside him and shifted into his troll form once more.

Draal lost his focus for a moment, startled by his transformation, and in the split second when Nomura tried to take advantage of it, Imbar _moved_ , his smaller, thinner frame giving him speed where his brother was all bulk and power.

Metal met metal, Imbar standing practically with his back pressed to Draal’s chest ( _not_ a move he would normally condone, but his options were limited) as he and Nomura snarled at each other.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“I could ask you the same thing, Nomura. Don’t you have work you were supposed to be doing?”

The pink Changeling backed off, allowing Imbar to shift to the side, no longer back-to-chest with Draal. “Four agents in the region the shipment came from are missing. No bodies, _yet_. The Order’s looking into it now.”

“Any word on the originals they were _meant_ to send?”

“None yet.” She looked behind him. “Lucky night for you, son of Kanjigar. Imbar’s a little higher on the food chain than I am.”

He growled. “You’re going to find yourself a lot lower on it if you don’t leave, Nomura.”

An overdramatic bow, and then she was gone, blades strapped to her back as always.

He waited until she was gone to sheath his own sword again, and turned to look at Draal somewhat reluctantly, fully aware that his plans had just gone straight down the crapper.

Draal, who looked absolutely horrified, but had made no move to kill him yet.

With Draal still clearly in shock, and definitely not wanting to push him at this point, Imbar strode into the forest nearby and found a tree to destroy, because this... This was probably the worst night he’d had since they’d lost the last Fetch.

He needed to murder _something_ , and the trees... no one would miss a random tree.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, and here is the other half of that chapter, with some edits to account for the fact that I chopped a chapter into two and... apparently this was supposed to be happening in the middle of the week originally. -shrug-

He was decidedly surprised to find Draal still right where he’d left him when he returned from reducing a tree to nothing more than lumber. It surprised him, but it really only took one good look at the troll’s face to realize that he was still in shock.

“Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.

Draal started and took a step back, straight into the fence, and though the wood creaked, it didn’t give way just yet. “...Why?”

Imbar tilted his head to the side. “Why, what?”

“Why would you save me? _Twice_ , even.”

He snorted. “Once. I refuse to count this evening. You very well could have killed Nomura; my shifting distracted you, gave her that opening. Fortunately for her, she’s useful enough I’d rather she not die just yet.”

Draal was silent as Imbar shifted again, once more taking on the familiar human form of James Lake, Jr. and returning to the house. He’d calmed down considerably since the incident had occurred; really, destroying trees was so very cathartic.

“You’re a Changeling.”

He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the obvious statement. “Yes. Have been for a few hundred years, though if the teenage body isn’t indication enough, only recently bound to a Familiar.”

He stepped inside the house, fully aware of Draal following him, though the ‘why’ still eluded him. He’d have thought Draal would have fled back to Trollmarket as soon as possible.

“But... _why_ would you _help_ me?! I’m a troll! Son of the Trollhunter, even!”

And this time, he did roll his eyes. “I know who you are, Draal. I know who your father is. And I also know that it’s getting really, _really_ tiring reminding Bular that killing Kanjigar is just going to set us back even _further_ than the bullshit I had to deal with tonight,” he said. Then he stopped and sighed. If Draal was still willing to follow him into the house, willing to _listen_ , then... “But... Like I said this morning. I understand dysfunctional families. I told you about my Familiar’s family... My biological one isn’t much better. Father’s playing favorites with his younger son and my older brother hates my guts.”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Draal still standing just inside the doorway. “I don’t like killing in cold blood,” he added. “I’m more than happy to kill if I’ve got a good reason for it, but... You’re innocent. I know, not the first word _anyone_ would come up with to describe you,” he said, grateful to hear Draal let out an amused snort. “But... You are. You’re not all wrapped up in the mess just yet. You’re... free. And while I get where your dad’s coming from, trying to keep you away from his work as the Trollhunter... There’s a fine line between protecting someone that way and alienating them, and if you’re roaming the surface digging through trash bins just because you _can_ and it _might_ get your father’s attention... He found the line and busted through it some time ago.”

Draal wasn’t looking at him when he looked over at the troll again. He was looking at his hands, head bowed and shoulders slumped.

Jim sighed, closed the refrigerator door, and walked over to Draal, putting a hand on his shoulder and startling him.

“Draal. It’s been... almost sixteen years since I got thrown through the Fetch to take the place of James Lake, Jr. I’m pissed at my dad for offering me up to become a Changeling, and even more pissed that he can’t see how much playing favorites with me is hurting my brother. But... that doesn’t mean I miss him any less. And no matter how cold and callous it may seem to you... Kanjigar’s only trying to protect you. Better that, than... well. Again. I got offered up to become a Changeling. For information’s sake, that hurts like _hell_.”

Draal made a vague sound of possible agreement, and Jim stepped back over to the fridge, grateful for the occasional leftovers that fed him on nights like these.

“Why spare my life? You know I could tell father when I return to Trollmarket.” A pause, and a snort. “I _should_ tell my father.”

Jim glanced over his shoulder, took a deep breath, and took an almost desperate gamble. “You do that, you run the risk of driving him right into our hands. We need him alive because only the Trollhunter can open Killahead Bridge. No one said he had to do it willingly.”

He’d lost track of the time, he mused as Draal made for the back door, only to freeze when he saw the eastern sky.

Jim could see the gears turning in his head, and a glance at the clock told him enough.

“If you run, you _might_ make it back before the sun’s high enough to hit you.”

If it was that late, though (and _damn_ had he lost track of time. He hadn’t realized he’d spent that long killing that tree), there was still too high a chance Draal _wouldn’t_ make it.

Draal was afraid. It only took Jim a few seconds to recognize it, and he sighed. “Relax. I wasn’t planning on keeping you here a second day.” Now to figure out what breakfast and lunch would be, while finding _something_ to munch on, because he hadn’t gotten to eat anything last night between dealing with his rotation in the kitchens and the subsequent cleanup, getting called to the museum, arguing with Bular, and then having to get Nomura off of Draal and the stress relief he’d _needed_ after that.

Speaking of Draal...

The troll reluctantly backed away from the door. “I’m leaving as soon as night falls again.”

“Alright.” He couldn’t argue that one. _Wouldn’t_ argue that one.

Draal was silent as he worked, watching him, but not saying a word.

It was rather disconcerting, when he considered that yesterday, the Trollhunter’s son had been happy enough to talk.

He’d been right. He would have to do some heavy adjusting to his plan.

‘Befriend the Trollhunter’s Son’ was probably not a workable plan anymore. And if Draal _did_ tell Kanjigar everything... well, he’d been honest. There was a very good chance that Kanjigar would simply play into their hands if he came looking for the Changelings.

He was good, but Bular had killed a lot of Trollhunters over the years. Bular, with the likes of Nomura, Stricklander, and Imbar at his side? Kanjigar would be so far out of his league that they’d have no trouble whatsoever capturing him.

Why bother using Draal as bait to draw him in if his half-panicked son sent him straight to them?

He’d just finished making breakfast when Draal finally spoke again. “You’re rebuilding Killahead Bridge.”

“Yes.” No reason to deny it. “Last night’s mess was Bular throwing a tantrum because we got in a shipment of fakes. Finding the real pieces is going to set us back, especially now that we have confirmation that the Changelings in that area have been compromised.”

He wasn’t sure why he was taking a chance telling Draal this much, but... Well. If he could just earn back a little bit of the troll’s trust...

Draal grunted. “Great. Don’t suppose you’d tell me where it is?”

Jim snorted and gave him a _look_ , and Draal shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Jim chuckled at the admittedly dry humor and packed up the lunches, setting up breakfast and then heading up the stairs with the intention of changing clothes and getting at least _some_ of his homework done.

Not his History homework, though. Strickler would understand, especially if Nomura had blabbed to anyone.

Draal had vanished by the time he got back downstairs, but a glance revealed the Trollhunter’s son in the basement, and Jim nodded to himself before heading out for the day.

Hopefully, he’d have time to deal with Draal after school.

It wasn’t until he was already halfway there that Jim remembered it was Saturday, and therefore, he didn’t _have_ school.

And though he’d planned to get home and get some sleep, Toby’s presence at his door rather derailed that plan quite neatly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... apparently working on Doff Thy Name was the project of the day. O.o
> 
> So don't mind me just adding a whole bunch of chapters right here... Since, you know, I'm bound to totally forget about this after a while.

The Changeling was leaving him alone. He’d tried talking at one point, but thankfully, it had only taken a short growl to convince him to leave.

So close... So close...

The clock finally read with the time the Changeling had told him the sun would set, a time that he was fairly certain was correct, given the last few days, and Draal made his way up out of the basement, wary of the poor woman whose son had been replaced without her knowledge.

Not here. As seemed to be the norm.

“Guess you’re headed out, then.”

He tensed and looked behind him, the human teen the Changeling was hiding behind looking calm despite everything. “Better get going. Nomura blabbed to Bular; he’ll be headed this way by now.”

...And, as much as Draal wanted to strangle the annoying little Changeling, wasting time when Bular was on the way was probably not a good idea.

His _father_ had trouble keeping up with Gunmar’s son, and Draal... Draal wasn’t nearly as good as him. No matter how much he trained, no matter how much he _tried_ to get his father to acknowledge him...

He left the house and took off running. It wasn’t far to Trollmarket. Part of why he’d dared stop here again after getting caught the first time. And the bins smelled so _good_...

He grunted, forced that thought aside, and spotted the canal past the trees. Almost there...

He heard the roar before anything else.

Bular was on his tail.

He slid down the side of the canal, hitting the bottom running and pulling a horngazel from a pouch.

Thank Deya the Changeling hadn’t tried to steal it at some point. That could have ended in disaster.

(As if the entire thing hadn’t ended in disaster already, a part of him mused.)

In the time it took him to draw an arch, Bular had reached the canal, and Draal found himself quietly thanking the Changeling for the warning as he ducked through into Trollmarket.

Just as quickly as the thought had come, he froze, thankfully already well within the barrier.

The Changeling hadn’t needed to tell him Bular was coming. Hell, if the little brat had _half_ as much control as Draal was getting the impression he did, the two of them could have easily subdued him, used him as bait to draw his father in.

So... Why didn’t they?

It wasn’t the first time it had crossed his mind that they might attempt to use him as bait for his father. No, he’d considered it when the Changeling had first mentioned that they needed his father to open the bridge. Hell, it was the _obvious_ answer for why he was even still alive at the moment.

And yet... Here he was, at the entrance of Trollmarket, looking down over the city like he was seeing it for the first time.

This... this was what his father was protecting. All of these trolls, all of the innocents meandering the streets...

He _should_ tell Father about the Changeling. No, the _Changelings_ , and Bular, and the bridge...

He should, and yet...

He owed the Changeling who’d introduced himself as ‘Jim’ for his life. Thrice over, and no matter that he claimed it was his fault Draal had gotten distracted. If he were better, he wouldn’t have given Nomura that opening, even if the boy turning into a troll _was_ a surprise.

Had it been any one of the trolls here in Trollmarket... well, he’d never live it down, that much was certain. But beyond that... He would do anything to repay that debt.

Was the Changeling aware of that? Had _that_ been its ultimate goal? Leave him so honor-bound to the Impure that he had no _choice_ but to lead his father into a trap to repay his debt?

“Draal?”

He looked up in surprise, rather rudely startled out of his thoughts. “Father!”

Kanjigar frowned, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright, son? You seem... bothered.”

Draal managed not to laugh. ‘Bothered’ was an understatement, given the events of the evening.

And it seemed his father had finally noticed the horngazel he was still gripping. “You wanted to come with me tonight.” Kanjigar sounded... disappointed.

Draal frowned a little, and made a split-second decision that he nearly regretted immediately. “I just want to help.”

“Draal... I know I’ve been more distant than usual lately, but... Bular’s up there. And he knows we’re here. And I can’t focus on fighting Bular if I have to watch out for you, as well.”

And there he went again, as if Draal weren’t perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He clenched his fist around the horngazel a little tighter, then practically shoved it at his father and tried not to stomp too much as he walked away.

He was tempted. So, _so_ tempted to turn around and go back to the Changeling. At least...

Draal froze at the bottom of the stairs, realizing where his thoughts had just gone.

Oh, no. No, the Changeling hadn’t saved his life to get him indebted to him. No, what _Jim_ had done was far, far worse.

He’d sympathized with Draal, tried to comfort him, offered to give him someone to talk to.

That damn Changeling had set himself up as a friend, and... Draal had almost fallen for it.

 _Almost_. He knew now, understood the Changeling’s angle.

There was no way in hell he was actually going to _fall_ for it.

None.

Not even if...

He shook his head and made his way to his dwell, wondering idly where Blinky and Aaarrrgghh were. They tended to follow his father around often, especially given that Blinky was the Trollhunter’s trainer.

He slipped into his dwell and glanced around.

Nothing out of place. Thin layer of dust forming from the stagnant air of not being here for _days_.

No one had come by to check on him.

The realization made his heart sink.

He’d been gone for two whole nights and two whole days... and not a single troll had come by to see if he was even here.

He left in a huff, making a beeline for the Hero’s Forge.

He needed to do some damage to _something_. Maybe getting lost in his training would help make him feel better.


	9. Chapter 9

The Changeling known sometimes as James Lake, Jr. and sometimes as Imbar was a lot of things. Patient, calculating, difficult to push into lashing out (if a little quick to anger; so sue him, but it ran in the family), and usually more preoccupied with his various plans than anything else.

But tonight—or rather, this morning—he was just plain pissed.

Draal was gone, having fled from a potential confrontation with Bular (Imbar would have interfered, of course, but now all he could do was hope Draal came back eventually), and now Bular was fighting Kanjigar, in the canals, _as the sun was rising._

Were they _both_ suicidal, or was his brother just that desperate?

“Yield, Kanjigar!”

“A Trollhunter never yields!” Kanjigar yelled back. “I’d rather die.”

Imbar sighed. Well, this was turning into one hell of a night. Still, as Bular and Kanjigar continued fighting, retreating to the bridge supports as the sun threatened to turn them both to stone, he knew he had to do _something_.

For the sake of their father’s remaining sanity, if nothing else. The trolls would likely sequester the new Trollhunter away for months, maybe even _years_ as they tried to train him up to a level where he might not die on his first night out, and it wouldn’t take _that_ long to clean up the mess the fake bridge pieces had caused.

He strode out of the tree line, not even flinching as the sunlight caressed the living stone of his troll form, and made his way at a casual stroll to the bridge.

Kanjigar saw him first, and balked.

Bular pinned him at the edge of the shadows, and would have pushed the Trollhunter into the sun if he hadn’t had to leap back from the blade Imbar had thrown at him, the shiny black claymore a lot more aerodynamic than it looked.

Three running steps, a leap, and Imbar was up in the bridge supports with them.

“We need him _alive_ , Bular. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“I _had_ him!”

“You were about to shove him into the sunlight. You had him, alright. And how long would we have to wait for the next Trollhunter to be allowed out of Trollmarket? How long would _Father_ have to wait?”

Bular snarled, and, fully aware that there’d been two in this confrontation, Imbar glanced back at Kanjigar, who had retreated to right above the entrance to Trollmarket.

Kanjigar, who was eyeing them both, glancing between matching glowing red eyes, or red-orange in his case, though in the early morning light, he knew they looked more red, their almost identical facial structure, similar horn curvature—though decidedly less developed, in Imbar’s case, seeing as his troll form was still in an adolescent phase as well—and seemed to make the connection, because he looked absolutely sick. “Gunmar would do _that_ to one of his own sons?!”

Bular growled. “And then proceed to play _favorites_ with the Impure. I’m leaving. Do whatever the hell you want, Imbar.”

Imbar sighed and shook his head, waiting until Bular was gone, vanished into the sewers that he could _just_ access without getting caught in the sunlight, before he spoke up again. “I really wish he wouldn’t do that...”

“Do what?” Kanjigar asked warily, glancing below him. He seemed fully aware that he wouldn’t be able to return to Trollmarket for a couple hours yet, and...

“I’m surprised you’re talking to me and not trying to kill me.”

“You can step into the sunlight. I can’t.”

“Valid point. To answer the previous question... I’m as sick of Father playing favorites as Bular is.”

There was a long moment of silence as Kanjigar watched him, one hand held over the sunstained shoulder that Bular had gotten shoved into the sun before Imbar had thrown his claymore, a blade he retrieved now that his brother was gone and Kanjigar was... non-hostile, at least for the moment.

“I’d think you’d appreciate it. Given your status as a Changeling.”

His snort was far more bitter than most would expect. “I’d appreciate it if Father would stop fueling my brother’s hatred of me. The only reason Bular hasn’t killed me yet is because... well.” Imbar offered up a wry smile. “What do you think Gunmar would do to the troll who killed his favored son?”

“Bular is his son as well—“

“And wasted _centuries_ chasing after the Heartstone, whereas I’ve managed, in the last few _decades_ , to get the Changelings collecting up bridge pieces and we are _this_ close to being finished,” he cut in, holding his thumb and forefinger an inch and a half apart. “Something Father rubs in his face every time Bular tries to argue.”

He took a step back, and dropped out of the bridge supports, looking up at the wary Trollhunter with a smirk, deciding to try to throw the Trollhunter off balance a little. “But then... I suppose mine isn’t the only dysfunctional family at the head of this war... is it?”

Then he turned and ran off, racing back home so he could cook and change clothes before Barbara returned from work and noticed anything off.

Once again, no sleep.

Bular better not need him tomorrow night. Or technically tonight, he supposed. Because he was going to crash, and crash _hard_ after this.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brand-new, one of two that I wrote just earlier today.
> 
> About halfway through, I got this feeling I was going to just scrap it and move on, but didn't in the end because it's Kanjigar's POV and... well. He's trying. He's failing pretty badly, but he's trying.

“One might wonder if you were suicidal, staying out during the day.”

Kanjigar didn’t grace Vendel with a response to that particular barb, his mind far more occupied by red-orange eyes and dark blue (possibly sodalite-based) living stone that didn’t spark and turn ash-gray in the sunlight.

“Not to mention the damage to the humans’ bridge. We’re going to have to repair that before it becomes an issue.”

Damage?

“Pardon?”

He got rather a stink-eye for that. “Pardon, yourself. What were you thinking, sticking Daylight through the underside of the bridge?”

Kanjigar blinked. “I didn’t.”

Cue an even more unamused look.

“The blade that did that damage was too wide to be one of Bular’s. Therefore—“

Imbar’s claymore.

“There was a third party,” he cut in. “Interrupted the fight.” He paused and looked well away from the quietly-grumbling elder who was wrapping his arm up to keep the sunstained skin from doing more damage than it already had. “...Saved my life.”

“By burying his broadsword in the underside of the bridge?”

“Claymore. And, yes. He threw it at Bular’s head while I was pinned.”

“No troll could have joined that fight and gotten away at that hour.”

“...Changeling. Not actually an ally. He insisted they needed me alive, and Bular snarled a bit and left.”

The silence that fell in the healing dwell was stifling, especially as Vendel stepped around him, putting himself into Kanjigar’s line of sight whether the Trollhunter wanted him there or not.

“A Changeling intervened?”

He heaved a sigh, aware that he should have just kept his damn mouth shut. But...

“What sort of a monster would give up his own son to be turned into a Changeling?”

There was another long silence, before Vendel moved away. “My parents? Though, to be fair... they didn’t hand her over. They simply didn’t let her come back.”

Kanjigar blinked twice, more than a little concerned. “Her?”

Milky eyes shifted to him, and then away again. “My sister. Kaleehsi. Kidnapped while my parents were preoccupied with me as an infant. Older than most of the younglings stolen from us. She fought tooth and nail to escape the Darklands and come home... and our mother killed her.” Vendel snorted. “But that is beside the point. I will make a guess based on what I’ve managed to glean from you so far; Bular isn’t an only child.”

Some part of him was rendered speechless from sheer incredulity.

The other part, though...

“His name is Imbar. Fairly recently bound to a Familiar, but given that he’s mentioned manipulating the other Changelings for decades, we can probably assume he was born some time ago.”

“And how recent is ‘fairly recent?’”

Kanjigar frowned and thought it over. “His troll form indicates adolescence. Younger than Draal, but more than half his age. I didn’t see his human form.”

“Hm. Likely later schooling age, then.”

He didn’t bother to give Vendel an answer to that.

“What will be done about him, then?”

Kanjigar eyed his shoulder, and felt the disappointment in himself keenly. “Nothing for the moment. Imbar is smaller, younger than Bular, but naturally _thinner_ as well, and that difference in size gives him the edge of speed. He’s likely as skilled as his brother, though I doubt I’ll be seeing much of him. Likely a decade and a half in Arcadia... And this is the first I’ve seen of him? He’s staying low.”

And...

“They’re rebuilding Killahead Bridge.”

Vendel froze for a solid ten seconds before he twisted, wide eyes locked on him. “What?”

Kanjigar grimaced at the sour taste on his tongue as he repeated himself. “They’re rebuilding Killahead Bridge. Under _Imbar_ ’s orders. They need me alive...”

“Because only the Trollhunter can open the bridge.”

Gold met milky white-lavender, and not for the first time, Kanjigar was reminded of _why_ he’d balked the first few times the title ‘Courageous’ had been tacked onto his name.

Because at the moment, ‘courageous’ was about the furthest thing from what he was feeling.

“I need to figure out where the bridge is. If we can steal even a single piece, it will _never_ open,” he said. “But... later.” His hand rose to cover the wrapped sunstained shoulder. “After I’ve had time to heal.”

Vendel nodded. “You should speak to Draal, as well. He’s been getting restless lately.”

_His son looked dazed, golden eyes unfocused as they looked over Trollmarket, and there was an edge to his expression that declared to all who looked that Draal was lost, unbalanced in some manner._

_It worried him. “Draal?”_

_His son jerked in surprise, having not even noticed his approach. “Father!”_

_He frowned and laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright, son? You seem... bothered.” Bothered wasn’t the half of it, he had a feeling, but unless Draal spoke..._

_And indeed, his son seemed grimly amused by the wording, even as a faint orange glow drew Kanjigar’s eyes to the horngazel in his son’s grip._

_“You wanted to come with me tonight,” he guessed. Dammit, he’d thought Draal had finally grown out of that phase..._

_“I just want to help.”_

_There was something off in his son’s voice. Something he didn’t have time to analyze as he made his excuses—and, yes... they sounded empty even to his ears. But one thing was truth._

_“...I can’t focus on fighting Bular if I have to watch out for you, as well.” Draal was_ everything _, no matter how seriously he took his role as Trollhunter. His son, his family,_ his _..._

_He couldn’t lose that._

_Except, as the horngazel was shoved into his hands and his son all but stormed away, Kanjigar got the sinking suspicion that he was losing his family already._

Kanjigar bowed his head, and then nodded.

He needed to speak to Draal, to attempt to mend some of the damage his distance had caused. And perhaps see if he could ease whatever weight was on his son’s mind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the other totally new, hot-off-the-press chapter. :D
> 
> Another one I was a tad iffy on, but... semi-necessary exposition for later and all that.

“Oh, look! Methinks I see my cousin’s ghost seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body upon a rapier’s point. Stay, Tybalt, stay! Romeo, Romeo, Romeo! Here’s drink. I drink to thee.”

Claire lifted the vial to her lips, and then collapsed upon the ‘bed.’

A moment passed in silence, and then...

“Brilliant, brilliant!” Miss Janeth cried, and Claire sat up with a wide grin on her face. “Oh, you’re all doing so well... Jim!”

Jim flinched. “Sorry, Miss Janeth. My manager’s no good at cross-checking schedules,” he said quickly, hoping to assuage the worst of her anger.

This wasn’t the first rehearsal he’d missed, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Bular was rather horrible like that.

But, he showed up as often as he could, anyway, and apparently his skill and generally affable personality meant he’d managed to keep his Romeo role... so far.

The maths teacher just sighed tiredly. “And I can’t exactly fault you for your work schedule. Hm... Perhaps you might make this Friday’s rehearsal?”

Jim nodded, making a mental note to see if Strickler could get Bular out of town for a little bit. And even if he couldn’t... well, Bular would live. “That I can definitely do, Miss Janeth.”

“I will see you all Friday afternoon, then.” And if there wasn’t a hint of ‘show up or _die_ ’ in the woman’s tone of voice, Jim would eat his favorite spatula.

Claire jogged over to him with her bag over her shoulder and gave Jim a grave look. “You are _really_ pushing your luck, you know.”

He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “I know. And it _sucks_ , because this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.” A couple steps, and he held the gym door open for her and the others as they started filing through. He counted it a minor win that Claire didn’t immediately run off on him.

“I don’t suppose you could talk your boss into cutting down your evening shifts?”

Jim shook his head. “Unfortunately, I made the mistake, over the summer, of being that one guy that will _always_ come in when everyone else calls off. It was worth it for the money I’ve been able to put away, but... not so much for how time-consuming it’s gotten when I have a billion other things to try to get done,” he replied. “That said, one of the ladies has been getting on him about overworking me, so hopefully my shifts are going to get cut back a good deal for a month or two.”

“At least someone’s on the case, right?”

He grinned. “At least.” He glanced into the gym. No one else was leaving just yet, since it was just Miss Janeth and Eli packing up, so he let the door close. “Do you want to hang out sometime?”

He got a semi-amused eyebrow raise for his efforts. “Are you asking me on a date?”

...If he were _actually_ the fifteen-going-on-sixteen teenage human he looked like... yeah, actually, he probably would have been. But in reality...

“Not at all. But... speaking as a guy who has, like, _one_ friend... Really wouldn’t mind getting to know you better,” he replied. Because really... he needed someone to talk to who wasn’t Toby. Or Strickler.

Draal had been nice... but then, he could tell Draal more than he could tell Toby or even Claire... but still.

Given that Claire was giving him an honest smile, he felt pretty good about his chances at building up another friendship.

And... maybe one day he could tell her and Toby everything, when he didn’t have to hide from everyone. Until then, though...

“Tomorrow after school?” Claire offered. “My house? I kinda have to babysit my little brother, but if you don’t mind...”

“Not at all,” he agreed easily. And Toby had a dentist appointment, so that gave him nothing to worry about as far as cancelling things went. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”


	12. Chapter 12

Three weeks. A few nights of training, of attempted reconciliation, and _rest_ as his father healed from the sunstain he’d received the night Draal had fled the Changeling’s human dwell.

Tonight wasn’t the first night his father had left the sanctuary of Trollmarket since then, but it was the first night Draal had caught him. The first night that Draal was determined to leave with him since meeting that Changeling. Except...

“It’s too dangerous!”

Of course it was. The Gumm-Gumms never fought fairly, and two-on-one odds could only help. “But Father—“

“ _No!_ ”

Draal recoiled, feeling rather like his father had just slapped him across the face.

The look of muted horror on Kanjigar’s face wasn’t too dissimilar to what he figured would be there if the Trollhunter _had_ slapped him.

“...Father...”

Kanjigar turned away, shaking his head. “Bular knows about you. Him, and the Changelings that answer to him.” His father paused there, and in Draal’s mind, he saw Imbar, sheathing his claymore as Nomura bounded away into the trees again. “If... If something were to happen to you... There’s no telling what they’d be able to force me to do to see you safe again.”

Draal fought down the disappointment as the Trollhunter turned around and walked away without another word, clearly believing that was the end of it.

When had Kanjigar stopped being his father, and started being nothing more or less than the Trollhunter?

Three weeks. Three weeks since that disastrous two days on the surface, and...

His resolve to never return, to _never_ let the Changeling get under his skin, to stay away and remain a loyal protector of Trollmarket... was failing him. He’d sworn to himself that he would _never_ return to the Changeling’s house, never fall for his tricks, and yet...

He had no true friends. Most of the trolls who tried to ‘befriend’ him just wanted closer to his father, or were close to his father already and were more like uncles than friends.

It was never about him. Only Kanjigar. And... maybe that was true of Jim, too, but...

Oh, Deya. He’d just thought of the Changeling as _Jim_ again.

What was his actual name? He was certain Nomura had said it...

Imbar! That was his name!

Oh, Great Gronka Morka save him from the dumbest idea he’d come up with since going to the surface in the first place...

Finding a horngazel wasn’t hard. His father seemed to hoard them, and he knew exactly where the stash was, too.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He _knew_ that. But...

He couldn’t stay down here any longer.

Drawing an archway was familiar, and stepping through into the nighttime air was refreshing,

He’d missed this.

Not that he would admit it to the Changeling when he got to his house.

Really, what he _should_ do was go digging around in the dumpsters of the less residential parts of Arcadia Oaks.

Instead... he found himself at the Changeling’s house again.

Oddly, the garbage bins didn’t smell nearly as good this time.

He lifted a lid off one of them and frowned into it.

“...I was hoping you’d come back eventually.”

He did _not_ jump. He did _not_ shout.

And he sure as hell did _not_ feel _excited_ to hear that voice again.

...Oh, who was he kidding?

He’d actually come to _like_ the damn Changeling in the few hours that they’d had to actually talk previously. And really...

Jim... _Imbar_ wasn’t angry. He was smiling right back, and giving the garbage bin next to him a rather amused look.

“I finally figured out what keeps attracting every troll and Changeling in the area to my trash bin of a night,” the teen said. “Which is why I started hiding the trash that does it in the basement. It doesn’t stop Nomura or Otto from sneaking in to munch once in a while, but at least I don’t have to give my mom a half-baked excuse about raccoons all the time.” Jim turned and stepped just inside, glancing back over his shoulder. “You wanna come in? Stricklander sent Bular on a wild goose chase for a couple weeks. I’ll have to run interference when he comes back, but...”

Draal smiled, getting the message.

Bular was out of the city for a little while... which meant he wouldn’t have to run like hell was on his heels to get back to Trollmarket.

“So, you’re the highest-ranking Changeling in the area?” he asked, following Jim into the house. Looked like the mother was gone again. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Highest-ranking Changeling, period,” Jim corrected him. “Highest-ranking in the area _before_ I got thrown through the Fetch was Stricklander. It’s a good thing we work well together, or I’d have to deal with him being a pain in my ass on top of Bular.” The teen paused, then shrugged. “Helps that I was already giving him orders _before_ he caught up to Bular and found me a Familiar.”

Draal settled down in an open space and watched as the Changeling puttered around, cleaning up here and there with practiced motions. He was silent for a while, watching as the Changeling worked, and... he couldn’t help it.

“Do you... have many friends?”

Jim froze with a book halfway to its place on the shelf, glanced over his shoulder, and then turned back around and finished the motion. “...I’d like to think... I have one. I can’t _really_ count Toby and Claire. They don’t... They don’t know anything about Imbar, after all.”

It took a moment for that thought to process completely.

Him.

Jim... meant _Draal_.

And Draal really couldn’t help himself tonight, apparently.

“I think I’m not much better.  Though... If they’re more often than not using me to get closer to my father...” And here he was being as blunt as a fist to the face.

Jim just chuckled, though. “Happy side-effect.” Draal blinked, and the Changeling’s human blue eyes met his own. “I missed you the last few weeks. I think I’ve only complained _once_ about a plan getting derailed, and that was out loud in front of Bular to shut him up for a few hours. Which, for the record, didn’t work very well, hence why it was only the once.”

Draal smiled slightly to himself.

Jim had all but outright admitted that aiming to befriend him had been with the express intention of luring Kanjigar in. But at the same time... Draal could see it in the spring that had gotten back into his step, in the light in his human-blue eyes that matched Draal’s skin almost perfectly.

Jim really was happy to have the Trollhunter’s son around again, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Draal _was_ the Trollhunter’s son.

The teen vanished down the stairs a moment later when it looked like he’d finished with his cleaning, and came back up with a plastic bag that had been tied shut.

He knew the scents from that bag. Recognized them—finally!—as the food Jim was forced to throw out because either he or his mom hadn’t been able to eat it on time.

Jim held it out to him with a smirk. “Try not to get it all over the floor?”

Draal chuckled. “Of course not.” That would be rather rude, indeed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things.
> 
> First, this is the only chapter so far where we have a POV switch. Well, technically two. We start with Draal's POV, then Blinky's, then Jim's. But the scenes are sequential and all fairly short, so I'm putting them up as a single chapter.
> 
> Second, enter the story summary in the third section! Finally!

It turned into a routine before he even _realized_ that it had turned into a routine.

Draal would spend a night and a day at Jim’s house, then would slip back to Trollmarket for two to five days, varying it every time so no one would notice a pattern.

...He really wished _someone_ would notice his repeated disappearances, though.

He finally decided to switch it up one day, and spend two to five days at Jim’s house before going back to Trollmarket.

He’d only slipped out for multiple days _once_ before, and that... that had been an accident.

His arrival at the Lake household found all the curtains drawn—as was the norm nowadays when Barbara wasn’t home—and Jim’s living room slightly rearranged.

“Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!”

Draal frowned at the teen in the middle of the room.

“Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love. Why then, o brawling love! O loving—Oh!”

Jim jumped, apparently not having noticed Draal come in for once.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Having fun?”

Jim scratched the back of his head, a bit of a nervous tic Draal had noticed over the... months? Had it truly been months since he’d started slipping out of Trollmarket just to visit the Changeling?

“The school’s putting on a play, and thanks to Bular and his inability to read my calendar, I missed the last two rehearsals, so I’m trying to get some extra practice in before Miss Janeth decides to try to strangle me or something.”

Draal hummed. “The lines seemed vaguely familiar.”

The Changeling grinned. “You said Blinky has a fascination with humans, right? So, logically, that would include humans’ classic literature, and Shakespeare is probably as classic as you’re going to get,” he said.

And suddenly, Draal knew where he’d heard it before. Because Blinky _did_ read human literature often enough, and he wasn’t always so lucky as to get away from the bookworm of a troll.

“Romeo and Juliet.”

Jim nodded. “Yup. I figure, I’m forced to act all the time. Side-effect of being a Changeling. So... why not join the school play? At least attempt to have a little _fun_ acting for once,” he said. “And it proved to be a good idea. If I thought I could trust Toby and Claire to be quiet about it, I’d have told them about being a Changeling a while ago. Well, years ago in Toby’s case, but that’s beside the point. Claire’s doing Juliet and she’s the one who told me about the play in the first place. I ended up getting Romeo’s part, which is nice, since that means I get to be one of the leads, but...”

He suddenly stopped, a familiar sheepish grin on his face that always had Draal fighting back a smile of his own. “Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Draal chuckled. “I don’t mind. I think the only other thing I’ve ever seen you get this worked up over is cooking.”

Jim snorted. “Yeah, basically. Speaking of... Barbara called a couple hours ago, said she wouldn’t be home until really late in the morning. Like, around the time I’m usually making lunch for me and Toby, late. So... I was thinking about spending most of the night cooking meals for the rest of the week, since I’ve got almost solid play rehearsals starting Wednesday afternoon. We’re getting down to the last couple weeks before the play, after all.”

He smiled. “If you can find a copy of the script, I _can_ read English.”

Jim grinned, vanished for a moment up the stairs, and came back down with a tablet and pen. “Just remember, you offered.”

* * *

Oh, Kanjigar was going to kill them.

Or Draal.

...He was going to kill _someone_ , and hopefully not the teenage boy currently brandishing a knife in Draal’s general direction.

Draal said something, clearly feigning indignation, and the boy, still in the middle of whatever _he’d_ been saying, dropped the knife on the counter and bent over laughing.

It was... rather heartbreaking, actually.

Draal had never been so close to any of the trolls around Trollmarket. And the boy clearly didn’t care that his companion was many times his size, blue, and could probably kill him with ease.

Watching the two of them laugh, even as the human went back to whatever it was he’d been doing with the knife prior to over-dramatically brandishing it at Draal, Blinky made up his mind.

Aaarrrgghh was still over at the other house, digging through the trash can and looking for food. If Blinky grabbed him now, maybe he could talk his friend into _not_ telling Kanjigar exactly where Draal had run off to...

If Kanjigar even noticed.

Really, the only reason Blinky had seen was because he’d been looking for Draal when the Trollhunter’s son had left Trollmarket.

He could see them talking, still, the human being rather more dramatic in his actions than Draal, and Blinky spotted something laying on the table in front of the troll.

He sighed, slipped away from the fence, and ran over to Aaarrrgghh, grateful that he didn’t seem to have wandered this way just yet.

“Mm... Find Draal?”

Blinky couldn’t lie to him, but... “Yes. He’s... he’ll be fine. Come. We should return to Trollmarket.”

Aaarrrgghh gave the garbage bin he’d been eating out of a sad look, but put the lid back on anyway and followed Blinky as they headed back to the canal.

He would not tell a soul of Draal’s human friend.

But... he would, perhaps, caution Draal against getting too attached.

Humans lived such short lives, after all...

* * *

Draal had fallen silent. Jim couldn’t really blame him. It was the balcony scene, after all. But...

“Draal?”

He glanced up. “Hm? Oh, sorry.”

Jim chuckled. “We can skip this scene if you want. I’ve had this one memorized for a while; it’s the scene I used to audition, after all.”

“Mm... O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

Suddenly, Jim started to understand why Draal had hesitated.

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” he asked off-handedly, musing over the realization that had struck him as he finished cooking what would be Thursday’s lunch.

Because really... He was a Changeling, son of the king of the Gumm-Gumms. Draal was the son of the _Trollhunter_ , whose very job was to kill Gumm-Gumms and Changelings.

Romeo and Juliet, they were not. But caught between a feud older even than the Montagues and the Capulets? Oh, yes...

“Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.”

Jim smiled slightly to himself. “I take thee at thy word; Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.”

He had a feeling it was a good thing that he didn’t speak with his brother often anymore, for one single, damning reason.

Bular would _not_ be happy that his plan was now less plan and more reality.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter. :D
> 
> Also, we are just about halfway through my MSWord doc. That said... I'm pretty sure I have enough 'missing scenes' to more than double the length the second half of the doc, so... it'll be a while before I finish posting this, probably.

After months of watching Jim interact with his human friends, Draal was fairly familiar with one Tobias Domzalski. It was hard not to be, when he was the boy who lived across the street from the Changeling Draal called ‘friend.’

And even though Draal couldn’t make it to see the school play, himself, Toby had been in the audience the night of the play, filming the entire thing with a camera Jim had bought for that express purpose.

It wasn’t as good as being able to watch it himself, he mused. But the recording was better than nothing.

He understood now, why Jim had quickly started to call Claire a friend. Watching them on stage... there was a definite skill in both of them, and... Dare he say it?

Chemistry. Attraction. Or, maybe that was just him.

Either way, as much as he enjoyed watching Jim have fun... He couldn’t shake the odd sense of envy.

He didn’t want to bring it up, either. Because the implications...

Draal groaned quietly, wanting to bang his head against something. It was a good thing he was heading for Trollmarket tonight, because he clearly needed the time to think.

“Draal?”

He looked up and blinked at Jim, who stood at the top of the basement stairs, and the teen smiled. “You said you were headed out tonight. Didn’t expect you to still be here.”

Was it... yes, it was that late already.

He sighed a bit and made his way up the steps. It was quiet in the Lake household, though Barbara was supposed to be returning soon. Still...

They stopped just outside the back door, and Draal managed to gather up his courage. Because this... was something he’d wanted to ask for well over a month now, and which was very difficult to put to words.

“Could you... change? Into your troll form?”

Jim blinked a couple times, then took a step back as blue sparks danced over his form.

Imbar was taller than Draal, even though he wasn’t quite full-grown yet. Red-orange eyes that bordered on plain _orange_ from their glow watched him, dark blue—not quite black, though in the shadows, it had looked such—living stone shifting with every breath the Changeling took.

Draal recognized the claymore on his back. It was the blade he’d used to block Nomura’s strike that night. Horns curved back and then back forward to protect the sides of his head, clearly not yet done growing, and yet, Draal could _see_ what they would look like when they were done growing.

Imbar lifted a clawed hand, and Draal grabbed at that hand, noticing the oddity. “Four fingers?” Most trolls only had three...

“A fairly common mutation in Changelings,” Imbar told him plainly. “We tend to take on more... human traits. I’ve seen Changelings born with four eyes lose their second pair, or... Well. I had a tail when I was born. Not a long one, but I _had_ a tail. It’s gone now.”

Draal grimaced. “That had to have been painful.”

“The extra fingers, yes. The tail... not so much. I didn’t notice I was losing it until I realized it was _gone_ ,” he admitted.

It hit Draal, suddenly, how much shit the Changelings had to go through just to _live_. Add onto that the general opinion of ‘Impure’...

He’d never look at Nomura the same again. Or _any_ Changeling. They went through so much, usually while still too young to even _speak_ , to protest their treatment, and...

He reached up and put a hand behind Imbar’s neck, shifting and pressing his forehead to the Changeling’s.

 _His_ Changeling’s, and his father be damned if he tried to change Draal’s mind.

There was a moment’s pause, and Draal feared Imbar would pull away, would reject his attempt at affection.

Imbar’s right hand slipped free of Draal’s grip, and found the back of his neck, helping to support his head even as the taller troll pressed into the trolls’ version of a kiss.

The action brought so many feelings with it. Relief, that what he was feeling was mutual. A vindictive second of triumph, that he was going behind his father’s back and didn’t care.

And... there was also a moment of warmth that he couldn’t explain. Was it relief? Happiness? Gratitude? He couldn’t tell. All he knew for certain was that Imbar _knew_. _Knew_ his body type was always ‘male’ because in reality, they were fully capable of carrying whelps. _Knew_ what it meant for Draal to be surrendering dominance to him.

Imbar knew how to keep him from submitting _completely_.

If he’d had any doubts about the Changeling he was giving himself to, they left him, even as they reluctantly parted, Draal returning to Trollmarket if for no other reason than to smooth over any (unlikely to even exist) ruffled feathers.

He’d be back. He was in far too deep to _not_ return to Imbar.


End file.
